


Sweet Smell of Success

by cinderella1147



Series: Off The Record [3]
Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 11:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13880373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderella1147/pseuds/cinderella1147
Summary: takes place a few days before S02E08  and a bit after the end of S02E09: *that* charity auction, *that* smooch, and a few things that may have lead up to those events.





	Sweet Smell of Success

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: part 3 of the "Off the Record" series, mostly takes place a few days after hurricane Sandy hit the New York area; assumes the episodes S02E08 and 09 happened as is. You don't have to read the previous ones to understand this one.
> 
> Note 2 : Obv, nothing is mine, but since Sorkin is done playing with these characters, I figured it would be okay to borrow them for a little while.
> 
> Note 3: Constructive criticism is always welcomed. English is not my first language, so feel free to let me know if I made grammar mistakes, etc.
> 
> Note 4: Has it been established where Sloan was from? I can't recall, but for the purpose of the story I figured SF would fit nicely.

"I was supposed to donate a signed copy of my book for the Sandy auction and I went to see my parents last weekend and forgot to leave the book." (Sloan, S02E08)

***

Sunday, November 4, 2012  
8:20PM  
ACN BALLROOM- SANDY RELIEF AUCTION

Leona went all out for the relief auction that would benefit those affected by the Sandy hurricane. The ballroom on the top floor of the ACN building was decorated tastefully, a small jazz orchestra was playing a mix of old and new tunes, and waiters with plates full of champagne were never far from reach. 

Don was talking to Neal and Gary about the Giants’ win over the Cowboys the week before, while Will, Mac and Charlie were huddled in a corner, deep in conversation about the repercussions of Genoa. 

‘Genoa. What an epic fuck-up that turned out to be,’ Don thought, as he listened to Gary with only half his attention. Genoa, or, more precisely, Jerry Dantana, managed to shake the foundation of the entire staff, and Don suspected a lot of them were still dealing with sleepless nights as a result. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, so he pulled it out. Once he saw the caller ID he excused himself from the group and went out to the balcony. 

The air was chilly, and the wind made it seem colder, but he felt his heartbeat speed up at the prospect of speaking to her.

“Hey, how is it going in California?” he asked.  
“Not bad, my parents are fussing over my sister who is supposed to give birth to my niece any minute now, and my brother-in-law, former marine, is giving me shit about Genoa, but other than that, it’s pretty good,” responded Sloan, and when she paused Don could hear the ocean waves breaking at the shore.

“So, how is the evening so far?” She winced at her own question. ‘So bad at this small talk,’ she thought. They agreed that she would give him a call when she got a chance, but she felt like a bullet-point list of appropriate questions and topics would have been a nice addition to that agreement.

“Well, you know Leona. It’s all very high society, but in a tasteful way, given the occasion.” He leaned into the balcony railing to look out to the city. The perspective - and possibly the champagne- made him braver, so he voiced what he was thinking since he stepped foot in the ballroom a couple of hours ago. “Would be better if there were more econ PhDs among the crowd.”

A small smile was playing on her lips and she thought back to their conversation a few days before. 

Thursday, November 1, 2012  
2:21PM  
SLOAN’S OFFICE

Sloan was sitting behind her desk, tapping a pen, and staring out the window in deep thought. She ran into a former colleague at Starbucks this morning, nice guy: handsome, good manners, great job, lots of interests in common. After some small talk - which was more Adam’s forte than hers- he invited her out to dinner on Saturday. Sloan had to decline since she was flying out to San Francisco on Saturday morning, but he insisted they touch base again when she was back in town. She wasn’t super-interested, but she was beginning to think it was completely futile waiting for a certain EP to make a move. Yep, Don still hasn’t officially asked her out. 

They actually spent a lot of time together outside of work in the last six months. A lunch here and there, a baseball game with a handful of the Newsroom staff, an open-air jazz concert with Mac and Jim, then Don had a couple of friends over for the NFL season opener, but most frequently, a couple of times each week, they would go to the diner down the street and grabbed coffee to sustain them through the nightly broadcast. Honestly, it was almost like dating, except for the dating part. ‘Or, the sex,’ she thought with a hint of bitterness and maybe more than a hint of desperation. Truth was, she was completely crushing on the guy and she was relatively sure he wasn’t uninterested either. She couldn’t figure out why he was not making a move. Maybe she should just take things into her hands and ask him out. 

She let out a un-ladylike groan and her head fell on her desk. Sure, she could ask him. Given her social skills, it was bound to be a genuinely awkward and embarrassing effort, but if it would get them from A to B, it would be worth it. She needed wisdom. She sat up straight and reached to dial Mac’s extension, when there was a rap on her door. She hung back the receiver at the same time she yelled “come in!” then turned around to see her visitor. 

Don maneuvered the door open as he held two large cups of coffee, and handed one to her.  
“Hey, I was out for a meeting… grande latte mocha, one sugar, no cream.”

“Thanks. I definitely needed this,” she said gratefully. The Genoa mess has been a difficult one to process for everyone, and the general mood at the office was heavy with regret, frustration and tension.  
Don nodded, then started to fidget with the plastic top of his coffee and Sloan noticed for the first time that he looked unsettled, and not just in the “normal” post-Genoa way. Finally, he placed his coffee on her desk and looked up.

“It’s been a pretty fucked-up month.” It felt like he wasn’t done, so she just nodded. Evenutally, he started pacing while he continued.  
“I think most of us slept a grand total of 4 hours a week, and of course we’re being sued left and right, and then there’s Jerry, who is probably sleeping like a fuckin’ baby every night since he has been fired…” He let out a frustrated sigh. “You know, I ran into Mac last night at Hang Chew’s and we must have been drinking steadily for an hour or so, because at one point we started talking about our childhood, and parents, and college, and personal lives...And then right before she left, she wrote something on a napkin, folded it and handed it to me.” He took out the folded cocktail napkin from his pocket and looked at it again. “What was on it..I mean, it’s not rocket science, and it’s not something I haven't heard before… but the fact that… what I mean is, I know this is the worst possible timing, and that we both have a million things going on, so if you want to wait or postpone it, that’s totally okay, but I just wanted to let you know, that I’d like to take you out. On a date. And whether it’s this weekend, or next, or after the dust settles over Genoa and the election, that doesn’t matter to me, as long as I get to take you out. Because I think we...I...we waited long enough.”

With that, he unfolded the napkin and placed in on Sloan’s desk.  
>>What the fuck are you waiting for.<<

Sloan was staring at him, then the napkin, then back at him again. As seconds ticked by, he started to look worried, so she quickly said the first thing her otherwise brilliant brain zeroed in on:

“I’m flying out to San Francisco Saturday morning to see my parents…” She stopped for a beat, then realized that almost sounded like a dismissal, so she quickly added, “so this weekend is not going to work. How about next Saturday?” When she saw his smile, she smiled back. 

“Next Saturday. It’s a date,” he confirmed, and the spark in his eyes that got dulled by the stress and tension of the last few weeks was back. A moment later his expression got clouded with a hint of disappointment:  
“I guess this means you’re not coming to the Sandy fundraiser Sunday night?”

“I can’t, I'll be out of town by then. I promised I would donate a book to the auction, though I’m thinking about just donating the money directly to the charity- I don’t see this crowd shelling out big bucks for “Hyperinflation in the Weimar Republic: The Economics of Post-World War I Germany.” Which is a shame, by the way, because it got excellent critiques.” She added with a serious tone, it still made him he chuckle in response.  
“I agree. Economists in general seem to be always underrepresented at these functions.” 

 

Sunday, November 4, 2012  
8:40PM  
ACN BALLROOM- SANDY RELIEF AUCTION

“Would be better if there were more econ PhDs among the crowd.”

A small smile was playing on her lips and she thought back to their conversation a few days before. 

“Yeah, there’s never enough of those.”

A comfortable silence settled over them for a few seconds, then Don heard a woman’s voice as she urged Sloan to join the rest of the family at the table. 

“I gotta go. You know, half of my family is Italian, so food is kind of a religion.”  
“I’ll keep that in mind. Have fun.”  
“You too. And keep me posted about any scandalous behaviour that may occur at the party later. I don’t want to be out of the loop on Monday.”  
“Will do.”

They hung up and Don wandered back to the ballroom to look for a glass of whiskey. On his way to the bar, he passed the table which showcased the items offered up for auction. A 4-day spa visit in the Hamptons, a day-trip on someone’s boat, a bottle of 1990 Chambertin Grand Cru (starting bid $7000… yeah, he’s definitely not touching that one), two tickets to the musical Once, a signed baseball bat, … and then there was Sloan’s book in the middle of the long line of offers. His heart did a funny flip again at the sight of her name on the cover. 

‘Jeez, Keefer. Get a grip,’ he thought, then saw there wasn’t a bid yet next to that item. He quickly looked at the other bidding sheets and noted with relief that the rest of the items weren’t in the game yet either. Still, he reasoned, Sloan had a point- this crowd will probably jump at other items rather than this book. He thought about how disappointed and maybe even embarrassed she would be if no one bid on her book. Swiftly, he grabbed a pen from the table and scribbled in the first name that popped in his head.

SYDNEY FALCO - $100

There. That should do it. 

Trouble was, now he felt invested, so throughout the night, he kept circling back and checking on the bidding. Don soon realized that Sydney Falco would remain the one and only bidder unless he did something about it. 

 

Wednesday, November 7, 2012  
1:59AM  
Election night  
DON’S OFFICE

The broadcast was wrapping up, they have given the control over to the LA office, so he disconnected his headpiece and walked back to his office, tightly holding on to a certain leather-bound book. That book quickly became his favorite possession in the last 2 hours and he started grinning again, just like he did every single time he remembered *that kiss.*

Don entered his office and took a second to look at the movie poster by the wall. What were the chances that Sloan would figure it all out? He didn’t know, but he was truly thankful for Sloan’s persistence. He looked around the office, trying to decide where to put the book. He wanted a place of prominence. Frankly, he wanted a fuckin’ shrine. His desk was currently a mess of files, notes, and leftover food, so he quickly tidied it up and moved things around a little bit. He was still standing on the outside of the desk, engrossed in the reorganizing, when he heard his door close. 

Turning around, he found himself face-to-face with the author of his new favorite book. 

“So,” she started. “That happened.”  
He smiled. “Yeah, I keep reminding myself of that fact every two minutes.”  
She held his gaze and continued.  
“I’m thinking we could probably move up that date from Saturday to a few days earlier. You know, for instance tonight.”  
“That’s an excellent idea, actually. We could have a low key movie night at my place. Ever seen the movie 'Sweet Smell of Success?'”


End file.
